Blink
by CeciACelosia
Summary: Can't move. Can't speak. Can't close his eyes. Can't warn the man standing right in front of him. This was his plan all along, and now no one can stop Mordred from killing Arthur. Merlin is trapped in someone else's body, and has to watch as Mordred uses Merlin's skin to kill his King.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N:  
Warnings: Future bloodshed, minor mentions of intoxication, no slash, large amounts of creepy staring. Will eventually contain major kickass-ness.  
_  
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"Merlin! Get up – I need you _now_!"

Merlin groans, stirring at the harshness of Gaius's voice, before he jolts awake, confused. His blanket is pooled underneath him – he didn't have enough energy when getting into his cot to even tuck himself in.

"Wh-"

"Through here! Hurry up, I need you to grab the Spirit of Hartshorn on the top leftmost shelf."

Gaius's voice is strong and determined, but the hint of panic in his aged voice is undeniable, knocking the last of Merlin's exhaustion from the previous night's feast right out of the window. Gaius is in his own quarters, behind Merlin's closed door, but Merlin can hear him perfectly well. Loosing no time the warlock swivels off the bed, still in his wine-stained shirt from yesterday, and quickly makes it to Gaius's side. His eyes widen a fraction at the scene he half-stumbles into.

Gaius is crouching over a rigid body with dark hair, lay out on one of Gaius's spare cots. The body is completely motionless, wrapped in a knight's uniform of which Gaius is attempting to remove the chest-plate of. Merlin, much to his astonishment, recognizes the body the moment his eyes rest upon a pale and still face.

Mordred.

Mordred's body is still, and his eyes are wide as if in shock, contrasting dramatically against Mordred's motionless calm face. Merlin's heart is pounding in his chest – is he…?

"_Merlin_!" Gaius snaps, briefly turning around to face his startled manservant. "Get the-"

"But-"

"Now!"

"Hartshorn. Y-yes," Merlin stammers, pulling himself together as he pads over to Gaius's workbench. What on earth happened to Mordred? Was he attacked? Succumbed to illness? He was absolutely fine last time Merlin saw him. Merlin grabs a small, light-blue glass vial on the top shelf upon Gaius's workbench before rushing back to Gaius. Here, as Gaius leans back from Mordred, he gets a better look at the man.

He hasn't moved an inch. Straight as a soldier, lay flat and awkward against Gaius's cot. Mordred's eyes are open, and as wide as Merlin own… only, they seem frozen like that, for lack of a better word. The man is completely, deathly still and just as silent, and Merlin can't help but think that Mordred's seemingly _dead_ state will in no way, shape or form be roused by a vial of smelling salts.

Gaius non-the-less pops off the cork at the top of the vial and sways it gently under Mordred's nose.

"Gaius," Merlin starts, voice low. "Is he not… well, _dead_?"

Gaius does not answer right away, immersed in his bone-deep role as a physician. Merlin just cannot collect his thoughts – yes, Mordred is a threat to Arthur. Yes, perhaps (as cruel as it may sound) the man is better off dead and _yes_, Merlin will find it difficult to shed a tear for the man if it turns out he has passed this mortal realm, but… This is all too odd.

Mordred isn't supposed to be like… this.

Finally, just as Merlin begins to doubt his mentor's mental health, the physician sighs and stands up, before pointing to Mordred's chest.

"It's tiny, Merlin. Almost impossible to see – but look."

Confused, Merlin looks, squinting his eyes in the end as he crouches forward a little in order to see better. Gaius waits without patience, his foot tapping mildly against the stone floor, and just as Merlin is about to give in and have Gaius explain to him he _sees_ it.

A tiny, impossible movement of Mordred's chest. Something that could easily be at first excused as a trick of the light, but it's there – inflation and deflation, something that only Gaius would be able to spot in the nick of time. Merlin has learned a lot from his mentor over the years but it's only now that the warlock realizes just how much more he has to learn.

"He's still alive?" Merlin mutters, the question more a statement than anything else. Gaius hums in response.

"Gwaine brought him ten minutes ago. He'd been found in the middle of the training grounds like this, and when Gwaine had brought him in I too thought he was dead." Gaius furrows his brow, and for a moment looks just as confused as Merlin is. "I was about to announce him so, when I saw his chest move. I've told Gwaine to inform Arthur, he'll need to know what's happened. Mordred is his knight, after all."

Merlin flinches at Gaius's last statement – even if Mordred is in an incapacitated state such as this, Merlin still refuses to acknowledge the man as anything less that 'completely and utterly suspicious'. No external wounds and a hardly-alive shell of a body, well, to be honest it only adds to the massive amount of suspicion building up in Merlin's gut. Mordred's eyes look up at the ceiling, seeing nothing. Despite the lighted candelabras in the room, there's hardly any reflection in the man's eyes, and for less than a tiny little second Merlin actually finds himself feeling sorry for the man.

The moment passes far more quickly than Merlin cares to admit.

"I'm going to damp a cloth," Merlin announces, clearing his throat. He needs to do something – needs to find out what's happened to Mordred, and his best bet right now is to help the man get better. "His eyes look dry."

Gaius looks surprised for a moment, before a ghost of a smile flickers on the man's lips.

"Not a bad idea at all, boy. Seeing as Mordred seemingly cannot blink as of yet, you'll have to keep on top of making sure his eyes do not dry out."

Merlin shudders at this – no matter how long he's been in Gaius's care, some things still manage to disgust him just a little – but heads to the corner of the room where Gaius holds an emergency supply of water in two large buckets. Of course, it's Merlin's duty to supply and change this water at the end of every two days, but the newly-introduced idea has already proved invaluable, especially so when a severely injured individual ends up in one of Gaius's cots. There's certainly less panicked running around, that's for sure.

Staying true to his word and damping an old rag, Merlin swears as the door slams open with such strength that he's forced to drop the entire rag in the bucket. Swivelling around, he sees his King rest his eyes upon Mordred's still frame, Gwaine not far behind him.

The crush of _something_ in Merlin's chest is not quite jealousy, but pretty damn close. Arthur definitely does not find his knight as suspicious as Merlin does. The look Arthur gives Mordred's still body is one Merlin knows is saved for the closest and most loyal of Arthur's friends, and after the fiasco of last night's feast, with the fresh memory of the bluntness in Arthur's words as the wine dried on his shirt, Merlin has to stop himself clenching his fingernails into his palms lest he breaks his skin.

Of course, Arthur would not think for five seconds just how hurtful his words were. If he knew Merlin was upset, chances are he'd just mock the manservant anyway.

As of late, Arthur and Merlin have no doubt drifted apart, and Merlin hates to admit it, but it scares him.

"What's wrong with him Gaius?" Arthur demands as Merlin turns to retrieve the rag from the water bucket. Gaius does not flinch under Arthur's strong gaze. "Is he…?"

"He is not dead."

Merlin turns around just in time to see the tiny movement of Arthur's shoulders sagging in relief at those four words. The man hadn't even changed out of his nightclothes before rushing down, and for a moment Merlin internally questions Gwen's whereabouts.

"Then what's wrong with him? Why are his eyes open?"

Merlin walks over to Mordred after ringing out the cloth, ignoring the two men as he dampens Mordred's eyes. He can see Gwaine out of the corner of his vision standing by the doorway, but cannot see what the man is doing, nor can he see the expression on his face. If Arthur has noticed Merlin's presence (and seeing as Merlin is tending to Mordred at that very moment, it's unlikely that he hasn't) then he doesn't verbally acknowledge it.

Gaius pauses before answering.

"I think… That Sir Mordred may be under a form of enchantment."

The silence in the room is tangible. Merlin is probably the only one not completely affected by Gaius's statement – looking at it now, an enchantment seems to be the only answer. Unfortunately, the answer only leads to more questions.

"Do you know how to help him?" Arthur eventually breaths. Merlin steps back from Mordred's still body, but not before feeling his heart leap into his mouth. For a split second, it seemed Mordred's eyes flickered towards him, wide and empty…

A trick of the light? Mordred's eyes are still staring at the ceiling.

Merlin finds himself siding over to Gwaine by the door. The man says nothing, but Merlin soon feels a hand rest briefly on his shoulder. The almost finds a smile from Merlin, who's gaze in now most definitely on Arthur.

_You're nothing more than a servant, and to be honest I think it's all you'll ever be. Someone who will constantly be drowning in the shadow of something so much bigger._

Merlin forces the slurred memory as far away from himself as possible. Arthur's words, though tinged with alcohol and more than likely spoken without much thought, hit home closer than he could have possibly imagined. Gwaine was the one to walk Merlin back to his chambers, and the only one who also heard Arthur's words. Despite Gwaine still not having said a word, Merlin feels closer to the man than he had in months.

Merlin snaps back to reality when Arthur's voice suddenly grows heavy and regal.

"Look for a cure, Gaius. Herbs, foreign waters, even the hair of the dog that bit him – I don't care. Mordred has shown his loyalty, and I never forget to repay such acts."

Merlin dampens down the harsh unbelieving _noise_ attempting to escape his mouth as Arthur makes to turn around. Surprisingly enough, Arthur's eyes rest on Merlin – and a strange look passes on Arthur's face if only for a moment.

"Stay and help Gaius for as long as he needs you."

And with that, Arthur is gone. Well, there goes Merlin's hope for an apology.

Not that Merlin ever believed Arthur would apologize in the first place.

The room is silent yet again, though Gwaine is still by Merlin's side. The two men step into the room properly and Gaius regards them briefly before looking back to Mordred. It's almost as if Gaius sees a puzzle more than a man lay out before him, but soon enough Gaius looks back up to the two men.

"Merlin, please visit the library for me."

Merlin doesn't need to quiz what for – Gaius is aware that Merlin knows where some of the older, dustier and certainly more _magic_-laden books hide away from the eyes of anyone not looking for them. Gwaine offers to help look with Merlin, with the excuse that Arthur did not specify _which_ man exactly should stay and help Gaius, to which both Merlin and Gaius sharply decline. Gwaine looks taken aback, and a pang of guilt strikes Merlin's heart.

"Ah, I have a more important job for you, Gwaine," Gaius quickly says, much to Merlin's relief. At this, Gwaine perks up.

"Anything, Gaius."

"Please take this rag and dampen Mordred's eyes. I do not want to cover them, you see – I'm hoping we can rouse even the slightest hint of consciousness."

Gwaine nods and takes the rag Merlin offers him.

Just as Merlin is about to leave, he casts one last look at Mordred's stiff body. The man's stillness is more than disquieting. As Merlin is about to turn away, he notices Mordred's face. Swearing loudly and flailing backwards though the open door, Merlin ends up on his arse in the hallway.

"Hell, Merlin!" Gwaine exclaims, and Gaius is shouting too but Merlin isn't paying attention.

Mordred's eyes have shifted, definitely, in their sockets, and those empty lifeless eyes were now most definitely looking directly at Merlin, wide and unblinking.

_That is _not_ a trick of the light._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you all so much for your feedback! Believe it or not, this isn't really a horror fic. Mordred's just very… stare-y._

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As Gwaine (not so helpfully) clicks his fingers in front of Mordred's face yet again, Gaius hands Merlin a cup of water. He isn't in shock, certainly not. Just… was surprised, is all. Sitting back in Gaius's chambers, Merlin's original plan to gather some information from the library is temporarily forgotten as he drinks down the water in his hands just to rid himself of the cup.

"Gwaine," Gaius sighs. Gwaine stops, turning his head to look curiously at Gaius. The physician raises an eyebrow. "I know you're trying to help, but it's been five minutes. Perhaps you should stop for the moment."

Gwaine frowns deeply, but complies anyway.

"He's still looking at Merlin," Gwaine notes, stepping back from Mordred's body. Merlin looks up, immediately meeting Mordred's intense stare. It sends shivers down Merlin's spine, but Gwaine is right. No matter where Merlin goes, Mordred stares in Merlin's general direction, and to be honest calling it 'a little creepy' as Gwaine had so kindly put it was a glaring understatement. Mordred still had not blinked once, and to be honest Merlin was starting to feel a little unhinged under the constant, unblinking wide-eyed stare from the otherwise unresponsive Mordred.

Gaius sighs, walking up to Mordred yet again. Merlin's unsure if he's ever seen Gaius so confused at a patient before, and to be honest Merlin is probably even more confused than his mentor.

"I've seen patients in an unresponsive state such as Sir Mordred's, but I've never seen… well, _this_." Gaius gestures towards Mordred's face, before letting a deep sigh erupt from his mouth, his professionalism lowering as his confusion grows.

Merlin can't really bring himself to keep looking at Mordred, so instead he focuses on something else. Like his feet. At least his feet don't bloody stare at him, and by the Gods Merlin doesn't really like Mordred in the first place and this whole staring thing is not really helping matters. Merlin sucks in a sharp breath – for once, a trip to the tavern actually seems like a tempting idea. At least if someone stares at you at the tavern, it's usually because they want a fight.

Or they fancy you, which Gwaine had pointed out last time Merlin was out and he thought the barmaid wanted to slap him.

Either way, at least if this was the case with the man on the cot, Merlin could act appropriately.

Merlin shakes his head, starting to feel a little lost in his thoughts. Gwaine is busily dampening the rag again, and Gaius is checking Mordred's pulse for the fourth time since he'd arrived. Merlin's starting to think Gaius is running out of ideas.

"I'm going to go to the library," Merlin announces, and before anyone can say anything he leaves the chambers, feeling Mordred's heavy stare bore into the back of his head.

Two hours later, buried in ancient books (half of which Merlin still will not admit to not understanding a word of) Merlin hasn't found a single helpful thing. How to defeat serpents, make love potions, a rather small yet interesting document on how to breath temporary life into an inanimate object (Merlin files that one away in his pocket for later, for definitely-not hilarious pranks because it's intended for important warlock stuff) and a distressingly _evil_ looking leather-bound book, and seriously how on earth can a book look evil, on what Merlin suspects to be blood magic.

Merlin makes a note to dispose of the book at a later date. That kind of thing just asks for trouble.

Sighing, Merlin decides to bring three books and two documents back to Gaius. The books contain records on different poisons and one or two enchantments that seem like they may be of interest to Mordred's case (though there's still nothing on creepy staring), and as for the documents, Merlin doesn't understand them in the slightest but they look old and important and one of them has a diagram of an eye on it and underneath Merlin thinks one of the words might mean 'fixation'. In general, that's good enough for him.

Merlin thankfully wasn't seen skulking around the ancient books. If Uther had known about them during his reign, Merlin has no doubt in his mind that the man would have them burned. If Arthur ever finds out about them… Well, Merlin is unsure what Arthur would do. Sneaking past Geoffrey, who was nose-deep in what looked suspiciously like an account on how to make a woman fall in love with you via conventional, non-magical means, Merlin quickly makes his way back to Gaius, his arms full.

The short distance from the library back to Gaius's chambers unfortunately prove enough time for Merlin to relive some of the previous night's memories. Unfortunately, Arthur at least had the excuse of being under the influence of a lot of alcohol, so it's unlikely he'll ever bring up the event ever again. Merlin, on the other hand, has the honour of being disgustingly sober, and the strong, vivid memory only youth can usually provide.

The feast from the previous night wasn't even for a particularly exciting event. It was a simple celebration for the ending of summer, and though usually such an affair is either ignored entirely in Camelot as of late, or postponed to mid-winter, Arthur had found that the recent stresses of the Kingdom were in warrant of a small, cost-effective celebration. For a break, if nothing else, Merlin supposed.

Gwen herself had drank more than Merlin had seen before, so thinking about it, the lack of her presence at Gaius's chambers was probably due to a mammoth hangover. Arthur on the other hand, had drank pretty much everyone present under the table and still, after a good few hours sleep, got up able to function just as he usually does.

Merlin sighs, stopping outside Gaius's door. The King may have been drunk, but it doesn't excuse the frankly hurtful things he said.

Pushing his way in, Merlin would like to say Mordred didn't stare at him. Of course, Mordred's eyes locked onto Merlin the moment he entered the room, and his body was still completely motionless.

"Merlin mate!" Gwaine says. "Weirdest thing – we could hear your footsteps, and Mordred there looks as if he's trying to see through the bloody wall! Seriously, his big ol' owl eyes he has going on have been moving all over the place - you'd have thought he'd been following your every move through the castle!"

Gaius groans and plucks the books and documents from Merlin's hands before Gwaine can glance at them. The knight doesn't seem to be paying much attention anyway, his attention solely on Mordred.

"Don't exaggerate, you know Merlin scares easy," Gaius tuts.

"I do not!"

Gwaine lets out a short, fond laugh. "Don't worry mate, only teasing. I doubt Mordred can actually see anything, or at least acknowledge it. Or perhaps he just finds your shirt particularly dashing?"

Merlin grimaces, looking down at the shirt in question.

"Somehow I doubt dried wine is very nice to look at." Gwaine shrugs at Merlin with a grin, before handing the damp eye-cloth to Merlin.

"Right, I gotta dash. I don't think there's much I can do here, and I'm well aware our little brat Princess will never let me hear the end of it for ditching duties today." Gwaine takes a second to offer Merlin a wink. "Not that I really care. If you need me, please do send for me!"

Gaius turns from the desk he's set the books upon and smiles up at Gwaine. "Thank you very much, Sir Gwaine. We'll call for you if needed."

Gwaine playfully nudges Merlin. "Ohhhh, '_Sir'_ Gwaine. Still makes me feel all special, that."

Just as Gwaine is about to leave, he turns towards Mordred, leaning in near the man in what Merlin quickly recognizes as a semi-private moment. "Get better soon, you creepy sod," he mutters fondly, and Merlin can't help but feel the moment would be touching were Mordred not staring at Merlin the entire time. Gwaine thankfully doesn't say anything else, and leaves the room with one last grin for its inhabitants.

Gaius's shoulders sag with relief as soon as the door slams shut.

"Right, I'll look through these –"

"Why do we have to save him?"

Gaius looks to Merlin, seemingly shocked at his ward's abrupt outburst.

"Excuse me?"

"Mordred will be Arthur's downfall. I know it, Gaius, I –"

"Merlin! I know you have your doubts about the boy but this… this is too much!"

Merlin refuses to shiver as he stands with his back firmly to Mordred. The man is most definitely still staring at him, and Merlin is trying him damn hardest not to care. Gaius runs a hand though his hair, and continues talking to Merlin as if explaining something to a small child.

"Sir Mordred has proved himself nothing but loyal to Arthur, Merlin. And of course, so have you – but what has Mordred outwardly done, what have you _seen_ him do, that proves he may be a danger to Arthur?"

Merlin is about to open his mouth, about to recall a childish threat that a younger Mordred had once passed on, when Gaius shoots a knowing glare at Merlin. And that's when Merlin looks away, feeling mildly defeated. Even he knows that a child's promise does not hold much water. Even so, Merlin can't help but feel an ugly hatred towards the man on Gaius's cot rear its head, and not for the first time. Despite Arthur's harshness, Merlin has been given only one meaningful job in his entire life, and that is keeping Camelot's King alive.

"Oh Merlin," Gaius frowns. "You once had such an open heart. You really must give people a chance. Give _Mordred_ a chance."

Merlin says nothing, and soon enough he hears the fumble of an old man's fingers carefully sift through ancient papers. Sighing inwardly, Merlin picks up one of the books and, avoiding Mordred's stare, does his best to decipher some of the text.

The hours of the afternoon soon drip away into the later evening; both Merlin and Gaius had barely stopped for lunch before poring back into text. Merlin had thought, once or twice, that he may have come into something useful, but Gaius would quietly look through the text himself, and tell the young warlock otherwise.

Eventually, in the presence of a full moon and candle wax dripping onto the floor, Gaius shuts his book with a light cough to rouse Merlin's attention.

"I must get some rest Merlin – my eyes are beginning to play tricks on me. I suggest you do the same, we can pick up from where we were tomorrow, once I have finished my morning deliveries. Though, seeing as Gwaine is so eager to help, I could always ask for assistance…"

Merlin looks up from the dim light of his candle and offers a tight smile. He's tired, and still a little grubby about Gaius's earlier remark. That, piled on top of Arthur's unkind observation on Merlin's status, and Merlin knows it'll be easier to just continue reading on if only to distract himself.

"It's alright, I'm going to continue looking a little longer. Feel free to use my bed, actually. It means I won't disturb you with the candles. I can just use one of the spare cots in here."

As Merlin makes the offer he immediately regrets it, remembering Mordred's stare, but Gaius is seemingly keen to take Merlin up on his offer and makes his way to Merlin's room. Well, too late to change his mind now.

"Goodnight, Merlin."

"Night, Gaius."

The door to Merlin's part of the chambers soon swing closed with Gaius behind it, and Merlin slumps back a little into his seat. This is really getting him no-where, and there is next to nothing on Mordred's symptoms at all. Merlin is about to close his book, and really, something always manages to pop out in the nick of time doesn't it, when a picture catches Merlin's eye.

It's of a man, crudely drawn, covered in chains right up to his neck. The chains seem tight, binding… and strangely enough, the man's eyes are illustrated to be glowing bright yellow. Almost as if they shine beams of light, as bizarre as that sounds.

Frowning, Merlin looks to Mordred before jolting violently. In the dark, candlelit room, only Mordred's eyes are properly lit up about him and he is still most certainly staring at Merlin. Merlin shivers.

"Please stop staring at me," he mutters, ignoring the wobble in his own voice. The candle in front of him flickers briefly, despite the lack of wind, but Merlin's gaze stays firmly on Mordred's own. Mordred's eyes, unlike the illustration, are not shining beams of light. Merlin feels a little silly for entertaining the idea, and turns back to the text.

The picture, to Merlin's horror, has changed slightly. It's almost impossible to notice, but it's there. The man in the diagram is smiling, and Merlin would bet his left arm that he wasn't before.

The darkness seems to creep up on Merlin just a little more, and Merlin is desperate to convince himself it's a trick of the light. He needs to get some sleep, that's it. He's getting tired.

The candles, all three of them lighting the room, flicker out at once.

Merlin's heart is suddenly in his mouth. He readies himself for a spell, an incantation, _anything_ that can give him light and by the Gods he knows that damned Mordred is still staring at him in that bloody immobilised body of his and Merlin needs light right this second before he goes mad and -

There's a light, tingling breath running down his back, even and warm. There's a hitched breath. Merlin whips around to look into two horribly wide dilated pupils swimming in pools of a harsh yellow.

He doesn't even have time to scream before a sharp pain (a yank?) in his chest forces him unconscious. 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you all so much for the support, it means the world to me! :) I'm very medically inaccurate, but I can blame everything on magic and medieval procedures as a scapegoat :L thank you all again :)

edit: I've rectified some of my mistakes after a read through, but I'd love it if any more major ones could be pointed out in future

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It's all very abrupt. When he comes to, he tries to gasp in a large breath. His joints ache, his head is splitting, his tongue horribly dry and as he opens his mouth... Well, he realises he cannot.

In fact, he can't move _anything_.

Though that's not entirely true. He can move his eyeballs around as much as he likes (it's quite disgusting when you're forced to pay attention to the little things like that) and he can increase his very, _very_ panicked breathing, despite the pain each sharp breath brings as the air is dragged in and forced out of his nostrils.

Oh Gods - what's happening? Why the _hell_ can't he move? Is he bound? Drugged? Is he ill? And now, as Merlin's lungs try to stretch against an impossibly tight chest, there's a blurred _someone_ hovering over him silently, motionlessly, and terrifyingly.

His heart picks up speed, trying desperately to feel for his magic. He can sense it – it's there in his bones, and yet it feels like an alien limb, and he just cannot move it. Who is it standing over him?

Merlin's eyes hurt. And there's another untruth. There's no way on this earth that _'hurt'_ will bring the sensation justice. It's as if his eyelids have been bloody _removed_ and he's been forced to stand in a desert storm.

Temporary relief, thankfully, is brought in the form of what feels like a damp cloth upon his burning eyes.

A... damp cloth?

Merlin's panic smashes into a whole new level of excruciating hyperventilation. It takes him a while to notice the blurred figure, partially illuminated by candlelight (by the gods this person is familiar, but... Who? Not Gaius, nor Gwaine or even Arthur...) was shushing him with a hushed voice so familiar that Merlin immediately starts to shiver, desperate to blink even once, to bring even a little bit of relief.

The figure turns slightly, slowly and purposefully, and picks up a candle, the flickering yellow flame illuminating its face, and if Merlin could cry out he would as he feels his eyes widen to an impossible stare.

He's most definitely looking up at his own body, his own face smiling politely down at him as if acknowledging an old friend, and then Merlin's body leans down towards Merlin, smile twisting into a grin, and Merlin needs to blast all that immobile magic lay dominant from his pores right now and _move_.

_"Better get comfortable."_

Passing out with your eyes open is an experience Merlin quickly adds to his ever-growing list.

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The next time Merlin awakes, he notices the soft morning light, feeling it dust his cheeks. It takes a good minute though for things to start coming into focus, and even then everything proves to be quite blurred, his eyes stinging horribly and his limbs aching and it feels as though his back is on _fire_. He only has a limited field of vision; the ceiling he can see perfectly as well as the top of Gaius's shelves across the room (they were definitely Gaius's – such organized chaos Merlin could spot a mile away). If he strains, he can see vague material he assumes to be his clothes upon his chest (although he cannot define a pattern), and the chamber door leading to his own room. So he is in Gaius's chambers – still unable to move. Unable to talk. _This can't be happening._

Glancing across the room (his head aches in response, begging him to stop) Merlin cannot see a living soul in the vicinity. Cannot see _himself_.

Merlin can feel his stomach flip as he looks back to the old stone ceiling and tries to calm himself down. He can guess his situation from the evidence he gained last night, and he's never hoped this hard for it all to be a joke. A dream. A _nightmare_.

_Better get comfortable._

So had Merlin been cursed? Tricked? Anything magic-related is likely, and he doesn't doubt for a moment that it's Mordred wearing Merlin's body like a second set of clothes. He could be doing anything right now, getting close to Merlin's friends, abusing trusts, betraying secrets…

Killing Arthur.

Merlin feels his heart speed up again. No, no no no calm _down_. He'd forgotten all about his role as manservant to the King of Camelot himself. Every day, Merlin is by Arthur's side – dressing him, cleaning his weapons and no matter what Arthur may say to Merlin, Arthur still believes Merlin to be harmless. Certainly not subservient, but… Yes. Arthur is in danger, Merlin doesn't have a doubt, and in that case so is Gwen. So is the entire of Camelot.

Merlin's chest (well, technically Mordred's) throbs with the burn of his lungs against bone. It's like the entire body is acting as a tight cage, and Merlin has no idea where to even start retaliating whilst in such a state of panic. He needs to calm down, he knows he's going to cause himself more harm than good, but there's no specific way to act when you've been cut off from everything and for once he's feeling completely and utterly _not_ in control, with his nose and his eyes and his head and his joints aching and screaming when he himself cannot.

And then Gaius comes in.

Merlin hardly noticed the door open and close, though he notices Gaius's bag used for deliveries set down on a table nearby. Forcing himself to ease his erratic breathing even a little bit was difficult, because Merlin knows he needs to gain Gaius's attention, but then the old man himself is leaning over Merlin with a sad, puzzled look on his face.

"Oh Mordred, pood lad. We'll find a way to help you, it might just… take some time."

Merlin's breathing intensifies, his eyeballs moving erratically inside his skull and Gaius is frowning, looking down at Merlin with the look a man gives to a stranger in need; not to someone Gaius treats as a son.

As Merlin treats as a father.

"His nose is bleeding," Gaius notes to himself, seemingly forgetting that Merlin's more than just a hunk of dead meat, but then Gaius rectifies himself, obviously already knowing there was a high possibility Mordred (but it's not Mordred, because Merlin's been trapped in Mordred's body and Merlin can't even tell a soul and oh god his breathing is so damn painful and entwined with that familiar metallic taste) can hear him.

A different cloth bats at Merlin's nose, before a damp cloth is laid over Merlin's eyes for a little longer than usual. Merlin's relief is still far too short as the cloth is taken away.

Gaius settles down by Merlin's side in an old chair. Merlin can just train his eyes to meet Gaius's right cheek, but his field of vision lets him see no more than that. For a while there's only the sound of breathing, but then Merlin can hear a rustle of paper.

Merlin would jump if he could, when he hears a clearing of the throat from the other side of him. Merlin didn't even notice the person sit down, but now Merlin has Gaius sitting on the left of him, and someone he cannot properly identify on the right.

"You took your time," Gaius sighs.

"Sorry, princess was a little harsh on me during training this morning."

The new voice is one Merlin recognizes right away. Gwaine. But the man sounds odd – a little sad? There's a sigh in Gwaine's voice that Merlin just can't place, but when stuck in an unmoving flesh prison, you have plenty of time to analyze these things.

Gaius only hums to Gwaine's complaint, before Merlin sees what looks like an apple passed over his head. Gwaine's hand meets the apple just over Merlin's nose, and pulls it to one side. Strangely enough, Merlin can still see the blurred apple in the peripheral of his vision, hovering in Gwaine's hand, awkwardly held up just above Merlin's eye-level. If he strains himself he move his eyes to meet the apple - but it hurts more than usual to do so.

More movement to Merlin's right, and soon Merlin can see another object on his left, being held up by Gaius's wrinkled hand. A long, dark feather.

Merlin looks back up to the ceiling, his brain pounding in his skull. What are they doing?

"He definitely notices them," Gwaine says. Gaius coughs lightly.

"Right. Yes. Well, this is the first time I've had to try something like this. Um, Mordred?"

It takes a little while for Merlin to respond to Gaius, due to the pain still dominating his senses and the confusion over the fact his name is not Mordred. Soon enough though, Merlin remembers his situation and looks over to Gaius.

Well, the feather Gaius is holding out. It's all he can properly see for the man anyway.

As soon as Merlin looks at the feather, Gaius beings to speak again. "Excellent. Alright Mordred, this is what Gwaine and I here intend to do," Gaius says, as Merlin returns his gaze to the ceiling. He doesn't know where the damp cloth comes from, but he's grateful for it non-the-less.

Gaius clears his throat and continues. "I hold a feather, and Gwaine there holds an apple."

"That's me," Gwaine says proudly and Merlin can just see from the corner of his eye the apple moving. Well, shaking.

"We need to ask you some questions, Mordred," Gaius continues. "If you could, please treat Gwaine and I as 'yes' and 'no'. The feather I hold will signify 'yes', and the apple signifies 'no'. Do you understand?"

Merlin feels his heart race. Gaius is a _genius_ - he has a chance! A tiny, little miniscule chance but a chance non-the-less. He needs to calm down – needs to take advantage of this, damn the consequences, because only the gods know what Mordred is doing with Merlin's body right now…

"Are you sure he's actually in there?" Merlin hears Gwaine ask. "Perhaps his movement isn't, y'know, 'cause he _wants_ to move, if you know what I mean."

Merlin can practically hear the frown he knows will be dominating Gaius's face, and that's what snaps Merlin back into action.

"You mean an automatic – oh! He's looking at the feather!" Gaius sounds fascinated, and Merlin would probably laugh in any other situation.

"Oh, wicked," Gwaine admires voice low. "Now that is cool. Oh, not saying your predicament is 'cool', Mordred."

Merlin looks back to the ceiling, his point made.

"Alright Mordred," Gaius continues, composing himself. "Do you know where you are?"

Merlin glances to the feather, and then to the ceiling, his eyes burning. This entire endeavour is agony so far, and Merlin is thankful for the periodic moments that Gaius pauses so Merlin's eyes can rest, and have that cloth places over them.

"Good," Gaius says. Then Gwaine buts in with his own question.

"Do you know what happened to you?" Gwaine's voice sounds a little shaky now, desperation for a clue becoming apparent. Gwaine really does care for Mordred just as he would a friend.

Merlin looks to the ceiling a little longer. If he indicates no, because he really doesn't know how Mordred himself ended up in this state, then he can vision the conversation being pretty much over. That _can't_ happen. But if he indicates yes…

Ignoring the pain, determination driving him forward, Merlin looks to the feather.

A sharp intake of breath can be heard from the men either side of Merlin, and the questions come in thick and heavy.

"Did you fall?"

Apple.

"Were you feeling sick before this happened?"

Apple.

"Was this result of an accident?"

Apple.

"Illness?"

Apple.

The next word comes out of Gwaine's mouth, quiet and unsure. "Sorcery?"

Feather.

Merlin's body is screaming in protest, and Merlin can feel an unlabelled hysterical emotion at the back of his chest – the one that tells him he'll be like this forever. Unblinking. Unmoving. In pain. In the wrong body. Gwaine and Gaius still do not have enough to go on, to help Merlin.

_Ask another question._

"Did you see the person who did this?"

Feather.

"Do you know them?"

Feather.

Gaius almost sounds nervous. "Are they in the castle?"

Feather. Feather feather feather. Merlin keeps looking from the ceiling to the feather, trying to get his damn point across, and the men either side of Merlin are silent for a long while.

"He's crying," Gwaine eventually says.

"He's overexerted himself," Gaius sighs. A cloth is placed over Merlin's eyes yet again, and he thanks the gods when it stays there.

"We'll continue questioning you later, Mordred. I must tell Arthur our findings – this is a massive breakthrough."

Gaius shuffles off to leave, and Gwaine, if he's still there, cannot be heard, and there's no move to remove the cloth.

Merlin forces himself to calm down, just as a new form of darkness takes him. He's getting somewhere, at least.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I made a good few mistakes in the last chapter, for which was entirely my fault – I've not been sleeping much lately! I've cleaned it up a little. Thank you all for your support again, it really does mean the world!_

O-O-O-O-O-o-o-O-O-O-O-O

Merlin dreams about the incident, and lives each step as if he hasn't taken it before.

He's on the way to Arthur's chambers. He's going to ready the man for the feast. His legs are sluggish – Merlin hasn't really had a lot of sleep lately, and for once it isn't due to supernatural/deadly threats to Camelot. To Arthur. He muffles a yawn as he pushes open the doors to Arthur's chambers, almost tripping over his own feet as he groggily slouches into the room.

"Wonderful you decided to show up."

Merlin bites back an insult, instead forcing a thin smile. Maybe at one point, he would have made some cutting remark. Maybe Arthur would laugh. But it was more likely not – he and Arthur don't speak all that much anymore. Not like that.

Time passes. Arthur is dressed and the moon is full. Bright. A late night feast. Arthur and Merlin hardly exchange a word, but still find each other standing next to one another, in a shared moment of awe, when Gwen walks into Arthur's chambers ready to escort him. Her nervous maidservant follows her, scratching her hands and head down low.

Gwen looks stunning, and that's the only word Merlin can find for it. Arthur is just as wordless as his manservant.

"Lily really is amazing," Gwen then smiles, breaking into the silence, and her maidservant blushes to the very tips of her toes. "She made this dress herself, you know? I think I might be in love."

This breaks Arthur out of his stunned state, and he looks to the servant dubbed 'Lily' with a kindness Merlin hasn't been subject to in a very long time. Merlin swallows back any remnants of jealousy and smiles at the servant as well. She really has done a beautiful job – and Gwen lays a hand on the painfully nervous servant's shoulder, pushing her forward a little.

"Gwen's right, you've done a wonderful job. Perhaps a pay rise may be in order. Though… Please do not elope with my wife," Arthur gently teases, and Merlin's lips twitch in a surprised, genuine emotion he hasn't felt in a while. It almost makes him feel a little sad – perhaps they never acted in such an outwardly warm manner, but their companionship was one not many people had the honour of sharing.

Merlin fights a light sigh. What happened to them?

More time passes, the dream's memory proving imperfect in performance and the feast is underway. People are drinking, laughing, fighting and Arthur happily fills his own cup. Merlin is standing against a wall, unneeded, watching the world go by with no particular mindset. Gaius is busy – a woman is giving birth in the lower town and complications have arisen, and then all Merlin thinks is that once upon a time he actually had people to talk to.

All this 'saving Camelot' business really does narrow your time down for socialisation - and Merlin really doubts Kilgharrah would appreciate being summoned just to 'hang out'.

Now Gwen is retreating to her chambers, but not before Arthur pulls her in for a kiss, and some of the less-rowdy fellows bid her a farewell. Merlin expects her to pass by him with perhaps a nod or a smile, but strangely enough she pulls Merlin away from the crowded hall, and into a quiet alcove in the one of the lesser known servant hallways. Her cheeks are flushed with the effects of the wine she's been drinking, and her breath smells terrible. Merlin stiffens: she looks… sad.

Gwen sucks in a breath, her hand resting on Merlin's shoulder. Determination battles the booze in her blood. Her voice is soft. "What's wrong with you?"

Merlin is thrown off by the question – it hasn't been worded very well, if nothing else. Gwen groans loudly, stepping back and resting her forehead on the cold stone wall by Merlin's back. This seems to calm her a little. Merlin turns to look at her, concerned. She must have drank too much. Merlin readies himself to take her back to her chambers, but Gwen bats his hands away when he tries.

"We were… we were really good friends, we're we?" Gwen mutters, her voice surprisingly strong. Merlin pauses.

"Me and you. You made me laugh like a horse sometimes."

The silence is thick. "I don't think horses can laugh," Merlin finally says. Gwen turns from the wall at this, determined again, and pulls Merlin into a tight hug. Her voice is now gut-wrenchingly quiet, sadness and truth in her voice as she whispers in Merlin's ear.

"We… We left you behind, didn't we? Everyone's moved on and… and you're still _here_."

Merlin's stomach lurches at this. He wants to go back to his chambers now. But he can't – Gwen needs him. She makes a strange noise and pulls away from Merlin, eyes wide.

"Oh! But I didn't mean it like _that_! I'm not saying leave! I don't want you to leave – Please don't leave. I just… Oh, Gods, my _head_."

Merlin tries to smile comfortingly. He fails. Ends up grimacing. Gwen leans back against the wall and Merlin stands by her side, waiting until she feels ready to move.

"Me and Arthur – we'll always care about you."

That's the one thing Merlin cannot completely agree with. Arthur seems to have transcended into a new, sparkling entity right along with the crown lacing his brow. One that doesn't have time for servants, even secretly magical ones. So he doesn't respond. How long they stand there, side by side, comfortable in the company of one another, Merlin has no idea. What he does know is that he really, _painfully_ has missed these moments he once often shared with Gwen.

_Everyone's moved on… and you're still here._

Merlin's back in the feast hall. Lily had found Gwen and Merlin, and had taken her mistress to her chambers. The girl might drop dead at one sour look, but she's good at her job – Merlin doesn't miss the sheer admiration bleeding from the girl's skin when in the presence of Gwen. There's not many people left in the hall. The ones who _are_ left are quite drunk, swaying and singing songs if they haven't already passed out on the various tables and chairs. One man has actually passed out standing up against the wall. His friends are laughing at him.

Arthur sits exactly where he's been all night. He talks to Gwaine, who seems to have found it appropriate to toss what was on the table onto the floor so he can perch on it and talk to Arthur. They're laughing; Gwaine hugging one of his legs to his chest attempting to tell a likely _exaggerated_ story to Arthur through sporadic roars of laughter on both sides. Merlin cannot tell what story it is, he's too far away, but he's almost content to watch from where he is.

He'd be lying if said he wasn't jealous – but not of Gwaine. He just misses the times he could laugh with them too. Gwaine talks to Merlin, but not often. He's usually busy with his duties – in honesty Merlin tends to see him most when Arthur's life is in danger, but oddly enough there's been no such time in a long while now.

Everyone really is moving on.

"Merlin mate!"

Merlin is jolted from his thoughts, surprised. A few moments later, he's with Gwaine and Arthur. Gwaine's forced Merlin to come over, though it seems Merlin did not need much persuasion. He ignores the sour looks Arthur is not trying hard to cover. What's his problem?

"You know I was just telling Arthur about Percy – the great lummox he is - and let me tell you I didn't even set them up, but 'e ended up with the gobby Fran last night! She must have drugged him or something – you know Fran's as nutty as a pie!"

Merlin nods as Gwaine spins himself into a frenzied tale of Fran's supposed crazy antics (Merlin's seen her before – she can be a little _strange_ but nothing mental) but he doesn't take in much of what Gwaine is saying. He looks at Arthur. Arthur looks at his wine. His fist clenched, knuckles white, as he grips the neck of his goblet. It's as if the second Merlin came over, his mood plummeted, and if Gwaine notices, he doesn't mention it. Merlin feels an unusual anger rear up inside himself – what the _hell_ is Arthur's problem? What the hell has Merlin even done?

Gwaine is laughing loudly at his own joke. Merlin only realizes just how forced that laugh was when it ends.

"So… Merlin, you got any good stories?"

Merlin freezes a little at Gwaine's sudden question. Were he in a better mood, were he not angry, and maybe if he had actually slept more than a couple of hours in the past two nights, he might have been able to come up with something. Right now all he can dwell upon is his bitterness towards Arthur's behaviour, and his sadness towards Gwen's.

After a moment of silence, Arthur takes it upon himself to answer the question for Merlin.

"He's not much of a talker, my servant," he says, eyes still hard on his wine.

Merlin bristles at this, and unbelievably so. Arthur dares to refer to Merlin as his _servant_ in front of one of his closest friends? As if _apologizing_ for him? For his actions?

Perhaps it's for nothing, and he's probably over-reacting, but Merlin feels something snap inside him.

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?" Merlin growls through clenched teeth. Merlin's had enough of this silence – mainly because he doesn't even know why it started. _When_ it started. Arthur does not make any sort of expression or noise to indicate he's shocked, and Gwaine stays silent. The room carries on with its drunkards doing their own thing, but here, between these three people, the mood is now heavy. Choking.

Arthur looks at his wine a moment longer, before Merlin notes a smile is spreading across Arthur's lips. Not a kind smile, either. Merlin's eyes widen, incredulous. Arthur straightens his posture, tipping his head back as he messily drinks back the rest of his wine and throws his goblet to the floor. The loud clatter gains the attention of those awake in the room with ease – you don't just ignore it when a King throws his cup.

"Why don't," Arthur starts, looking to Merlin as his smile drips away with the rest of his wine, "you tell _me_, Merlin?"

Merlin isn't entirely sure what to do. Punching Arthur, despite his wish to, would be a terrible idea in front of all these witnesses. What does Arthur even mean? The man is most definitely drunk – there's no way he can't be, and right now, Merlin is the centre of attention for everyone in the room.

Merlin's gaze hardens, and the deadly glare the men exchange is one no-one interrupts. "I have no idea what you mean, _Sire_."

"Like hell you don't. Like _hell_ – You stupid… You stupid _bastard_!"

Merlin flinches at this, surprised. Well, that most definitely came from nowhere. Arthur is suddenly fuming, standing up despite not being too good on his feet right now. His chair has been knocked backwards, and his fist is bunched up in Merlin's shirt. Within moments, Gwaine has ripped Arthur of him with a handful of curses.

"What the _fuck_ have I done to offend you so damn much?!" Merlin suddenly shouts, gathering his wits, and his lip twists up in a snarl. The profanities feel alien on Merlin's tongue, but he just cannot think of anything else to say. Arthur pushes Gwaine off him, eyes wild. Gwaine stands warily by Arthur's side, sobered up and ready to intervene at any time.

"You don't know a bloody _thing_, do you? You selfish bastard – you don't even think for one second about other people now do you? You don't even –"

"Shut the hell up!" Merlin spits, and the room's collective gasp at Merlin's treatment of the King is ignored. No one stops him. "You're got no right – _no right_ – to tell me I don't think, don't _care_, for others! You'll never know what I've done for this Kingdom!"

"You've done _nothing_ for this Kingdom! You're a _servant_!" Arthur bellows, and if the walls could shake at the fury passed between the two men then perhaps they would. Arthur steps towards Merlin, sheer anger in his eyes, and Gwaine readies himself to stop him should anything happen. Arthur lowers his voice just a tad, the venom in his tone tangible. The next words from Arthur's mouth are more personal than Merlin could ever imagine. "You're nothing more than a servant, and to be honest I think it's all you'll ever be. Someone who will constantly be drowning in the shadow of something so much _bigger_."

And for once Merlin does not have a witty response. No cutting comeback. No devastating news to bring to the table. Arthur, to his credit, steps back after a moment and slowly raises his hand to touch his lips, as if surprised such words came from his mouth. He almost looks confused. The room is silent. Merlin doesn't dwell on it – instead he turns heel and walks – or is he running? - out of the room. Gwaine darts away from Arthur in order to follow Merlin. The argument Arthur started doesn't even make sense to Merlin. He's done _nothing_ wrong – he's not at fault. What the hell does Arthur even mean? Merlin is nothing but loyal to the man he once considered a close friend.

_You don't know a bloody thing, do you?_

Well of course not. Everyone's moved on, and Merlin is still – and always will be - here.

_..._

Mordred's crying again.

_I'm not surprised – the strain on keep his eyes open must be great._

_Can we not close them?_

_I would love to, but his eyes are the only way for me to know his condition right now._

_…We will cure him Gaius, even if it kills me._


End file.
